Page 19 of Wasted On You

“I get it,” Wanda said with a shrug. “History is the worst. Especially the kind of history that involves a man. But you’ve got things figured out and you seem real good. I’m glad you came out tonight, and I sure hope I get to meet the famous Kip Lafferty.” She began to giggle, an infectious sound that brought a smile to Ivy’s face. “I heard Marcy Banks damn near had a heart attack when she spotted him in the grocery store the other day. She told my mama he was so pretty she couldn’t speak for an hour.”

“He’s not that pretty,” Ivy said dryly.

“I think I’d like the chance to decide that for myself.”

“Bryce might have a problem with that.”

“No, he won’t,” Wanda murmured, eyes on her husband. “I’ll make sure he gets something in return.” She moved a few inches and motioned to the table. “You coming?”

“Sure.” Ivy grabbed her shoes. “Let me return these, and I’ll be over.”

She headed for the rental counter and turned in her shoes. By the time she got back to their table, there was only one seat left. It was at the end, next to Mike Paul. With no choice but to plant her butt beside him, Ivy sat down but was careful to keep a few inches between them.

The boys were deep in a discussion about the merits of using a wok versus a regular old frying pan when making a stir fry. Benton believed that the heat distribution of a wok worked better, while Mike Paul argued that nothing could beat his old skillet.

“Really?” Ivy looked across the table at Angel. “This is what keeps the men of Montana up at night?”

Angel shrugged. “Don’t get them started on chocolate. Last week, I had to listen to an entire discussion about the health benefits of the dark stuff.” She made a face. “I don’t eat chocolate to be healthy.”

“Amen,” Wanda said, reaching for a chicken wing.

“Do you want a plate?” Mike Paul asked, head swiveled her way.

Not one part of her body touched him, and yet it felt like the heat of a thousand suns burned along the side of her body. His eyes were hooded as they regarded her, not quite serious but a little too intense. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and the dark swath of hair that covered his strong chin and jaw only managed to make him more dangerous.

“Ivy?”

She wanted to hate him. Wanted to dislike him so much that he would never cross her mind again. And yet, as her name fell from his lips, all she could think about was that night nearly a year ago when, drunk and dumb, she’d tumbled into bed with the one man she should have stayed away from. Because that night everything changed and the sad truth of it was…

She missed him. So much that it hurt. And that was a problem for a lot of reasons.

Her mouth was dry. She moistened her lips, aware that Wanda was watching the two of them covertly from the other side of the table.

“I’m good,” Ivy replied, reaching for a glass of water. She downed half of it and sat back, ignoring the man at her side.

“So, we’re talking again.” He nudged her thigh with his. “That’s good.”

“Is it?” She kept her voice light.

“Thanks for coming tonight. I’m not sure we would have pulled out the win without you.” He leaned closer. “Surprised you came alone.”

“Kip’s in New York.”

“Couldn’t handle the excitement of Big Bend?”

“He’ll be back by the weekend. What do you care anyway? It’s not like you two are friends.”

“I hate that guy.”

She made a face. “You don’t know him.”

“I don’t need to know him to hate him.”

“Real mature.”

“He could be the damn King of England, and I’d still hate him because…”

She turned to Mike Paul and raised her eyebrows. “Because?”

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